There is something to being on the surface of it
Lashing about in the sun and waves
Forever buoyed like a porpoise among forests of kelp.
Many dolphins have orange dots on their foreheads
But flippers that cannot reach up and remove them.
I am not like them
I am a sperm whale and I rarely visit the surface
Forever compelled to dive yet further down
Into the dark cold recesses of the past
For in the depths of the past
Space opens anew and the stars which are below
Shine again in another light.
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